


King Arthur drabbles

by likethenight



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drabbles, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of all the drabbles I wrote in the King Arthur fandom c.2004-2005, written for challenges on the KA100 community on LJ and for prompts given me by friends (the keywords I was given are the titles of the drabbles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Arthur drabbles

**Title:** Home  
 **Character:** Galahad (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for the [week 1 challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/921.html), _“We shall find peace. We shall hear the angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds.” - Anton Chekhov (1860 – 1904), 1897_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

Galahad dreams constantly of the life he will have, once all this is over. He will return to Sarmatia and live his own life, a life of peace, roaming the plains and breeding horses. Galahad does not believe in Arthur's God nor in his angels, but he thinks their voices must sound much like the cries of the birds that soar above the plains. He and Gawain will sleep in the open and listen to those angels, and they will watch the stars sparkling overhead like diamonds in the night sky. And they will be free men at last.

* * *

**Title:** The End of Time  
 **Character:** Gawain (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for the [week 4 challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/9871.html), _"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time", William Shakespeare, Macbeth_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

The time passes so slowly here. Gawain fears that by the time his fifteen years are up he will be an old, old man, aged far beyond the term of his service by all he has seen and by the long, dragging monotony of the days and weeks and months in dreary, wet Britannia. The one exception is the time he spends with Galahad, which seems to slip through his fingers like water in a rush of laughter, tension and Galahad's sunlit smile. For those stolen moments, he would be happy to stay here until the end of time.

* * *

**Title:** Light in the Darkness  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad  
 **Author's Note:** Written for the [week 8 challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/24105.html), _Light within_ , at KA100 on Livejournal.

Alone, a man could lose himself in the darkness here, could wander forever blinded by despair of ever returning safely home, by grief at the loss of so many of his brothers. Alone, all is dark.

But when they turn to each other in the darkness, a light is ignited within them, between them, a small candle burning bravely in the black night. They guard it carefully, shielding it from the wind and rain, tending its little flame, rekindling it when it gutters, when despair threatens to extinguish it.

And together in the darkness, that small light within is enough.

* * *

**Title:** Vanora's Light  
 **Pairing:** Bors/Vanora  
 **Author's Note:** Written for the [week 8 challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/24105.html), _Light within_ , at KA100 on Livejournal.

He won't admit it, but the first thing Bors looks for when he returns from a mission is always his Vanora. He scans the crowd for her, always drawn to her light, so bright among the drabness of the rest, no matter how tired she is, or if hard work has left her dishevelled with dirt smudged upon her face. She burns, she shines, she glows, and every time he sees her Bors offers up a gruff little prayer of thanks to his Goddess for sending him this bright, passionate woman, mother of his children and queen of his heart.

* * *

**Title:** Home  
 **Character:** Gawain (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [picture challenge 1A](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/72327.html), _Hadrian's Wall_ , at KA100 on Livejournal.

The Wall, now, is so small as to be unrecognisable as it snakes away across the landscape. Gawain's incorporeal form still guards the place where his bones lie, where his heart lies, watching it change with the centuries. He dreamed of home, but how could he leave when Arthur needed him? How could he leave without Galahad, who declared he was staying with as much vehemence as he'd always declared he'd go home at the first opportunity? So he stayed until old age claimed him, just another ghost now among the ghosts of his friends, reunited at last in death.

* * *

**Title:** Not a Failure?  
 **Character:** Galahad (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [challenge 17a](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/87740.html), _"Half of me thinks I am a loser, the other half thinks I am God Almighty." -- John Lennon._ at KA100 on Livejournal.

I never wanted to be a messiah like Arthur's Jesus, and I never had Lancelot's love for martyrdom. I used to believe I was invincible, when I was younger, but that was all. Really I just wanted to go home to my family. Failed at that just like everything else. But sometimes I catch Gawain looking at me in that way he has - half affectionate and half exasperated - and it makes me wonder if maybe home isn't where I always thought it was after all. Makes me wonder if maybe, in some small way, I haven't failed at all.

* * *

**Title:** Grey, Green and Gold  
 **Character:** Gawain (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [challenge 20a](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/90469.html), _Work these colors into a drabble: grey, green and gold_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

This country is mostly grey, Gawain thinks, cloud and mist and rain all blending together for months on end. Grey and wet and cold, the sort of cold that gets into your bones, making them ache, making you long for the sun.

But sometimes the mist vanishes, the rain stops and he notices the green that he had forgotten, the leaves and grass, rolling hills and teeming forests as far as the eye can see. 

And sometimes the clouds part and the sun appears, painting the world with gold. And just for a moment Gawain remembers what joy feels like.

* * *

**Title:** A Preference For Life  
 **Pairing:** Gawain (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [challenge 22a](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/93698.html), _Don't Fear The Reaper_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

Gawain does not fear death. It is all too familiar to him, having stolen from him so many of his brothers-in-arms, having snatched away his three younger brothers. In some ways he thinks death would be welcome, a glorious, battle-stained end, the gods of his people coming to claim him.

But in other ways he thinks that actually he would rather live a while longer, to see if Arthur's dream can become a reality, to see if Bors' children will grow up as obnoxious as their father or as kind as their mother. To see Galahad's smile, as the seasons turn, perhaps to grow old and to find death in sleep instead, a peaceful end he never before dreamed could be his.

* * *

**Title:** Without Mercy  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [picture challenge 24a](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/96053.html), _J W Waterhouse's La Belle Dame Sans Merci_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

Gawain does not trust women. They are too complicated for one as straightforward as him. They entrap, ensnare, weave nets of words and they are utterly without mercy when they have a man in their grip.

He can see it in Guinevere, manipulating Arthur and Lancelot for her own purposes, and while he does not entirely blame her, he does not feel comfortable in her presence.

No, for all his jokes about wives and children, Gawain has no time for women and their games. Galahad may be something of a handful, but in the end he is far less trouble.

* * *

**Title:** Do You Love Me?  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [challenge 26a](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/97839.html), _do you love me?_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

"Do you love me?"

The soft whisper wakes me in the middle of the night, trained as I am to wake at the slightest sound.

"Gawain, do you love me?"

He repeats his question, and I smile into the darkness. He should know that he doesn't have to ask.

"Gawain...?"

I tighten my arms around him, knowing he just wants reassurance, still the boy seeking approval, underneath.

"Yes," I whisper, "of course I love you, Galahad. I always will."

He sighs happily and snuggles down in my arms, falling asleep again, and I watch over him, my most precious friend.

* * *

**Title:** I Am Gawain  
 **Character:** Gawain (Gawain/Galahad very faintly implied)  
 **Author's Note:** Written for [ challenge 28a](http://community.livejournal.com/ka100/100127.html), _What is your name? What is your quest? What is your favourite colour?_ at KA100 on Livejournal.

My name is Gawain, son of Lot and Morgause, brother of Gaheris, Gareth and Agravain, knight of Sarmatia and of Arthur, brother-in-arms of many but particularly of Galahad.

My quest was to go home, but somehow that has changed and now it is to stay and to be Arthur's steadfast knight until death or the Saxons claim me.

And my favourite colour...is green, the overwhelming colour of this my adopted home, all year round from the wet spring to the interminable winter. 

I am Gawain, Arthur's knight, and this fair, green land is my quest, my goal...my home.

* * *

**Title:** untitled  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad/Tristan  
 **Author's Note:** Written for eudaimon at Livejournal.

He cannot see them on the battlefield. No matter; they are more than capable of looking after each other. He makes for the big Saxon; this will be a fine challenge.

As his sight dims he watches his hawk wheeling in the sky. He has set her free, just as now he sets them free, to love only each other, to live a life without him. If the thought twists his heart, his face does not show it. As death claims him, Tristan's smile is serene, and although Gawain and Galahad mourn his loss, they know he is at peace.

* * *

**Title:** History Repeating  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad/Tristan  
 **Author's Note:** Written for eudaimon at Livejournal.

He lies in their arms, cherished and safe, and is surprised at how familiar it feels. A memory comes to him, unbidden, of a homesick boy and his devoted protector, curling together with him one bleak night in the wilds, seeking comfort in the nearness of a friend after the young one's first experience of the loss of one of their number. Tristan had not realised until then how alone he was; although he pretends to like it, in truth it still nags at him. He smiles, now. Not any more. Now everything is different; the whole world has changed.

* * *

**Title:** Winter  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Lancelot  
 **Author's Note:** Written for bandonbanshee at Livejournal.

Arthur has always liked the winter. He misses the warmth of Rome, but there is something about Britannia's winters that warms him more. The firelight and everyone crowded round it, telling tales; the mist on the hills in the morning; the sunlight bright and strong and the cold, biting wind. It makes him feel more awake, more alive, than at other times of year. He particularly loves the snow, the unreal quality of the light, the whiteness as far as the eye can see...and the little crystalline flakes caught in Lancelot's black curls and on the tips of his eyelashes, making him look, in a certain light, as though he has the stars caught in his hair.

* * *

**Title:** Like Glass  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad/Tristan  
 **Author's Note:** Written for dea_liberty at Livejournal.

Tristan watches the merchant showing off the glass jug from Rome, a lovely piece destined for some high-ranking Roman. It is a fitting metaphor for his lovers, he thinks. Galahad is brittle, fragile and sometimes so transparent, needs careful handling lest he break, even after all these years. Gawain is protective, caring, shielding Galahad from all that is within his power and picking up the pieces when all else fails. And Tristan watches, enthralled, touches carefully, sees beneath the surface, and would do anything to protect that beauty, keep it. Not as a possession, not as a symbol of status, but because its very existence gladdens his weary heart.

* * *

**Title:** Burn  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Lancelot  
 **Author's Note:** Written for dea_liberty at Livejournal.

Arthur watches the flames begin to catch the straw, licking their way from the torch along the pyre. Soon they will reach the shroud and then the body - but he will not think about that. Instead he considers how fitting it is that Lancelot chose this end. He always liked to think of Lancelot as having a fire burning deep within him. Sometimes it burned low, and Lancelot was warm and loving; sometimes it flared high with Lancelot's temper, and Arthur would be almost certain that he could see the flickering of flames in Lancelot's flashing dark eyes. But always it burned brightly, unquenchable like his spirit, and Arthur knows that the sight, sound and smell of fire will be a bittersweet reminder to him for the rest of his days.

* * *

**Title:** Summer Storm  
 **Pairing:** Gawain/Galahad  
 **Author's Note:** Written on a whim, a shameless little bit of Galahad-worship. 

Gawain thinks that Galahad in a rage might be almost the most beautiful thing in the world. It's better when Gawain himself isn't the target of Galahad's anger, but even then he can't help but feel a dizzying sense of awe at the flashing of Galahad's eyes, the twist of his mouth, even the sound of his voice as he lets out his frustration. Thunder and lightning it is, and like a summer storm, almost as soon as it has come, Galahad's anger is gone, burned out as is fitting for a temper as hot as his. (His sulking is a different matter entirely, but then that's not usually entirely to do with anger).

And when the anger is gone, it is replaced by that dazzling, beatific smile, the one that lights up Galahad's face, the one that Gawain thinks must truly be the most beautiful thing in the world.


End file.
